The silence of that place was too heavy to be ignored.
The body lay on the ground, already unrecognizable as someone who once had a name, a routine, a life. All that remained were fragments — torn flesh, exposed bones, deep marks left by something that didn't attack out of rage, but out of necessity.
Francielly was crouched over what was left.
Her eyes were completely black, devoid of any human light. At their center, a white pupil — almost luminous — pulsed slowly. Her breathing was irregular, animalistic. Her hands, stained with blood, gripped the flesh with brutal force as she fed, without haste, without hesitation, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
There was no guilt there.
No thought.
Only hunger.
When it was over, silence returned.
Francielly remained still for a few seconds. Then her body shuddered. A violent chill ran down her spine, as if something were being ripped out of her from the inside by force.
Her eyes changed.
The black receded slowly until the whites returned to normal. Her pupils constricted. She blinked once. Twice.
And then… she saw.
— …no… — her voice came out weak, barely a whisper.
Francielly looked at her own hands. Dried blood between her fingers. Under her nails. On her arms. On the floor. Everywhere.
She staggered to her feet, her stomach twisting. The metallic stench flooded her senses now that her awareness had returned.
— What… what did I do…?
Her eyes slowly drifted to the body on the ground.
She brought a hand to her mouth.
The shock was so overwhelming that, for a moment, she thought she might vomit. Her heart raced. Her breathing became shallow, trembling.
— This… this wasn't me… — she told herself, trying to believe it.
But deep down, part of her knew.
She turned abruptly, backing away from the scene, nearly tripping over her own steps. She reached the wall and leaned against it, her legs giving out beneath her.
The wall clock caught her attention.
04:37.
— Almost morning… — she murmured.
She took several deep breaths, trying to steady the trembling in her body. Then, as if following an automatic script, she went to the bathroom.
The shower water poured down hard over her head — too hot at first, but she didn't care. She stood there, letting the water wash away the blood, the filth… trying to wash away the memory of what she had done.
But it wouldn't leave.
She scrubbed her arms violently, her skin turning red, almost burning.
— Stop… stop… — she whispered, as if speaking to something inside her.
When she stepped out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel and went to the bedroom. She put on her school uniform with mechanical movements. Packed her backpack. Slipped on her sneakers.
Everything felt absurdly normal.
Before leaving, she sat at the kitchen table. The place was far too quiet now, as if the world were pretending nothing had happened.
She rested her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands.
— What's happening to me…? — she asked the emptiness.
— What am I doing…?
No answer came.
Francielly stood up and left, closing the door behind her.
The alarm clock rang at exactly 06:00.
Elloysa woke with a slight jolt, her heart racing before she even remembered where she was. The room was still dark, but the faint light of morning was beginning to seep through the window.
She slowly sat up.
Davincci was beside her, turning his face, still half asleep. On the floor, Valhalla shifted on the makeshift mattress, letting out a low groan before sitting up.
— Is it time already…? — he asked, rubbing his face.
— Yeah — Elloysa replied quietly.
The mood was strange. There were no jokes. No teasing. Just a shared, heavy silence.
They got up and began getting ready, each at their own pace, as if speaking would require more energy than any of them had.
Elloysa went into the bathroom and closed the door.
That was when Valhalla stepped closer to Davincci, speaking almost in a whisper.
— Hey… — he said. — Where's her mom?
Davincci didn't answer right away. He took a deep breath and leaned in, speaking very softly into Valhalla's ear.
— She's gone.
Valhalla froze.
— …what do you mean?
— Don't ask anything else — Davincci added, his voice firm but broken. — Please.
Valhalla swallowed hard. Any trace of curiosity vanished from his face. Only shock remained.
— Okay… — he said. — Sorry.
Elloysa came out of the bathroom shortly after, her face washed, but her eyes still far too tired for someone her age.
Soon after, the three of them left the house.
The street was quiet, as if the entire city were bracing itself for something. They walked side by side, backpacks on their shoulders, steps in sync — but their thoughts couldn't have been more different.
Valhalla was the one who broke the silence.
— You never really explained… — he said. — That gun.
Elloysa didn't respond. She kept walking.
Davincci sighed.
— I took it from a dead cop — he finally said. — SWAT.
Valhalla stopped for a second.
— What…?
— I used it to defend myself — Davincci continued. — If I hadn't… we wouldn't be here right now.
The weight of those words settled between them.
Valhalla said nothing. He simply nodded slowly and started walking again.
The rest of the way to school passed in silence.
But now, it wasn't the silence of ignorance.
It was the silence of those who had seen enough to know nothing would ever be normal again.
The trio continued through the still half-empty streets, the sky slowly beginning to brighten. The atmosphere was strange — not tense like before, but heavy, as if something were always on the verge of happening.
Valhalla walked a few steps ahead, thoughtful. Every now and then, he glanced sideways at Elloysa and Davincci, clearly bothered by something.
— You know that… that thing is dangerous as hell, right? — he said suddenly, breaking the silence. — Not just because of what's out there. A poorly handled gun is just as dangerous as any demon.
Davincci looked at him, attentive.
— Like what?
— Fingers on the trigger when there's no need, bad posture, barrel pointing everywhere… — Valhalla started listing, gesturing as he walked. — If you're holding a weapon, treat it like it's always loaded. Always.
Elloysa listened in silence, absorbing every word.
— It doesn't matter if you think you won't use it — Valhalla continued. — A small mistake with a gun becomes a huge tragedy.
Davincci stayed quiet for a few seconds, thinking. Then he said:
— Okay… random question, but… — he turned to Valhalla. — Do you play CS2?
Valhalla stopped walking for a moment and looked at him, confused.
— …CS2?
— Yeah.
One corner of Valhalla's mouth lifted slightly.
— I do. Over five thousand hours. Plus Paintball.
Elloysa looked at the two of them, not quite sure where this was going.
Davincci's eyes widened a little.
— Five thousand… — he murmured. — That explains it.
— Explains what? — Valhalla asked.
Davincci took a deep breath before speaking:
— So… do you think you could teach us? Like… how to handle a real gun. The right way. Professionally.
Valhalla turned serious immediately.
— It's not the same as a game — he replied. — It helps, sure — especially with recoil awareness, positioning, reaction time… but real guns don't forgive mistakes. It's like Formula 1 in Monaco.
— Even so — Davincci insisted. — Knowing is better than not knowing.
Valhalla thought for a few seconds.
— I can teach the basics properly — he finally said. — Stance, safety, aiming, control. But it won't be easy. And it'll take discipline.
Davincci turned to Elloysa.
— So? — he asked. — Do you really want to learn? To defend yourself for real… to use that thing properly?
Elloysa didn't hesitate.
— I do — she said firmly. — I don't want to be helpless anymore.
Valhalla nodded slowly.
— Alright then — he said. — If we're doing this, we're doing it the right way.
They resumed walking, now carrying a different kind of weight on their shoulders — not just fear, but responsibility.
As they approached the school, movement began to pick up. Students arriving, scattered conversations, laughter that felt almost out of place after everything they'd been through.
That was when Elloysa saw her.
Francielly was walking alone through the courtyard, staring straight ahead — yet somehow looking at nothing at all. Her face was pale, her eyes sunken, as if she hadn't slept.
— It's Francielly… — Elloysa murmured.
Davincci was the first to approach.
— Hey — he called. — You okay?
Francielly blinked a few times, as if snapping back to reality.
— Huh…? — she replied, confused for a second. — Oh… yeah. I'm fine. Just a little dizzy.
Her voice sounded normal. But there was something off — a deep exhaustion, almost unnatural.
— You sure? — Davincci pressed.
— I am — she replied, forcing a small smile. — Probably just lack of sleep.
Elloysa watched in silence. Something inside her said that answer didn't explain everything… but she said nothing.
The four of them entered the school together.
The gates closed behind them with a metallic creak.
And for a brief moment, it almost felt like that place was still just a normal school.
But all of them — even without admitting it — felt it.
Something was wrong.
And it was only the beginning.